


The Two Hogwarts Champs

by thepoetsdream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25300606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepoetsdream/pseuds/thepoetsdream
Summary: A Harry/Cedric AU starting in the Goblet of Fire when Harry's name gets pulled out for the Triwizard Tournament. Exploring what happens when Harry gets some much needed support from his friends, Sirius, and Cedric in book 4 and beyond. Will be angsty with lots of hurt and comfort.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory & Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 153





	The Two Hogwarts Champs

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters will be posted soon!

_“’Ah, but of course ‘e is lying!’”_ Madame Maxime’s words rattled through Harry’s head. No one believed him; Of course, they wouldn’t. He watched as everyone slowly turned their attention to Dumbledore as he announced Harry would be competing. He felt his stomach sink as his last hope that this was just some absurd prank was dashed. Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman agreed instantly, and Harry felt a stab of panic run throughout his chest.

Harry wanted to scream, glancing around at the group of adults who mere seconds ago had been demanding he not compete. He didn’t want to compete; the other champions had two to three years of experience over him, not to mention the large possibility that he wouldn’t even survive the tournament in the first place.

 _“’Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed,’”_ Dumbledore’s voice jerked Harry back to the present. He nodded, seeing Cedric do the same out of the corner of eye. They both walked back through the empty Great Hall in silence, before Harry cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Cedric,” Harry said, glancing up at his face, hard to read in the dim lighting.

Cedric glanced back, taking a moment before he answered. “Sorry about what?”

“This whole mess. I—” to Harry’s embarrassment, he felt his breathing hitch, and within seconds he felt like his throat was glued shut. “I-i really didn’t put my name in, Cedric. I swear, I prom—”

“Hey,” Cedric said, grabbing onto Harry’s shoulder and pushing him down onto the bench, “It’s okay. I believe you,” he admitted with a frown, noticing how Harry was still hyperventilating.

“I know no one believes me,” Harry said, breathing impossibly fast, “but—”

“Harry,” Cedric said, grabbing Harry’s other shoulder with his free hand and steering his gaze back, “I believe you.”

There was a long pause before Harry nodded, and Cedric pulled him into a hug. “Thanks,” he mumbled against his robes, breathing beginning to calm down. Cedric could only nod and squeeze Harry’s arm. Harry pulled back, running his hands nervously through his hair, and Cedric took it as a sign to keep walking.

“We should head back to our common rooms,” he suggested, giving Harry another quick glance to make sure he really was following. “I imagine we’ll have quite the gathering waiting for us.”

Harry groaned loudly, already dreading the accusatory comments that would undoubtedly face him in the Gryffindor common room. His mind replayed the past half-hours worth of interactions as he steeled himself for further disbelief and anger. _Just find Ron and Hermione, they’ll know what to do,_ Harry thought, as he felt his heart start to race yet again. _They’ll think of something to get me out of this Tournament._

It wasn’t until Harry arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady that he realized Cedric had walked him to his dorm. “Thanks,” he said, turning to face Cedric fully.

“Anytime,” Cedric said with a grin, making to turn around before stopping himself. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said, more serious than before. “I’ll see you soon, Harry.”

And with that, Cedric was off, turning the corner quickly. Harry, having been truly alone for the first time since his name came out of the goblet, took a shaky breath and started to cry. He walked away from the Fat Lady’s watchful eye and collapsed against the wall, feeling the fear he had been wrestling with all night rear its ugly head yet again. He felt his breath catching in his throat, and it seemed every gasp of air he took vanished before it hit his lungs. He tried to ignore the panic that was coursing through his veins at the thought of the tournament. Harry had faced death several times in the last few years, but never had it hit him quite like this that he was going to die. And for a tournament he didn’t even want to be in in the first place. His mind flew back to something Mad-Eye Moody had mentioned a mere half an hour earlier; that someone must have wanted Harry _dead_ to put him in this tournament. And who had been the biggest proponent of Harry’s death for the past thirteen years: Voldemort.

Harry felt sick. The dreams, his scar hurting, everything was making sense. Voldemort wanted Harry dead and what better way to do it than this tournament. The anxiety that came with this revelation started a fresh wave of tears, and Harry wondered if he wouldn’t just die here. He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, and he was almost certain he couldn’t get a real breath.

Before he could think any further, the Fat Lady’s portrait hole opened up, and he heard a couple of people tumble out. Determined not to let anyone see who was crying in the hallway, Harry tucked his head further into his knees, and covered his neck with his hands. Hopefully whoever it was would keep walking—

“Harry?” Harry barely had time to recognize Hermione’s call before he felt two distinctive weights drop to their knees in front of him. He peeled his arms off the back of his neck and peered up, wiping his face on the sleeves of his robe as he sat back. He hadn’t even rested his head fully against the wall before Hermione launched herself at him, wrapping him into his second hug for the night.

“It’ll be alright,” she whispered into his hair, and Harry relaxed slightly, feeling Ron pull them both into a tight hug as well.

“Are you okay, mate?” Ron asked after a moment, pulling back but still resting his arm on Harry’s shoulder. Harry had to pull his brain back to the present to respond.

“I don’t want this to be happening,” He admitted, voice hoarse. “You have to believe me. I didn’t put my name in; I-I didn’t want this and—”

“We know, Harry,” Hermione whispered, pulling back to stare pointedly at Ron. Harry looked back and forth between the two, unaware of what he had missed.

“Of course,” Ron said, clearing his throat and shaking his head before glancing up at Harry, pulling him forward into a full hug. “We’re here for you.”

Harry felt tears well in his eyes again but was too drained to do more than let a few leak out. “Thanks,” he muttered into Ron’s collar, resting his head for a minute before pulling back to look at Hermione too.

“Here,” Ron said, reaching under his robes to pull out Harry’s invisibility cloak before handing it to him. “Figured you’d want to sneak upstairs. Fred and George have most of the house awake and in the common room waiting.”

Harry gave a grimace at the thought but nodded at Ron. “Thanks,” he said, taking the cloak and getting to his feet. Hermione wrapped him in another hug.

“I’ll head to the library tomorrow, and we’ll figure something out,” Hermione promised, letting go. After giving her a small smile of thanks, Harry pulled the cloak over his head.

Harry followed Ron up the stairs and was grateful to see the dorm room was empty. He pulled off his cloak, tucking it back into his trunk before immediately crashing in his bed, Ron mirroring Harry on his own bed across the room.

The room was silent for a few minutes before Ron finally spoke: “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“’S not your fault,” Harry mumbled, turning his head slightly to look at Ron.

Ron took a second before he replied. “When your name first came out, I thought you had gone behind my back and entered. I didn’t stop and think about someone being out to hurt you; I was just jealous,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Harry, and I promise I’m by your side through this all.”

Harry heard Ron’s voice crack, and he turned his head further to see a tear leak out of Ron’s eye. “I’m glad you’re on my side, Ron,” he admitted. Silence fell over the dorm again. Harry, despite the anxiety rushing through his veins, felt the last of his energy draining out of his body, falling into a fitful night’s rest.


End file.
